


Between the Ends

by JeffrevinAO3



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffrevinAO3/pseuds/JeffrevinAO3
Summary: A short story in honor of James Arnold Taylor's 51st birthday.Obi-Wan celebrates his birthday close to the end of the Clone Wars.
Kudos: 3





	Between the Ends

“Rise and shine, Master!”  
Obi-Wan raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the golden light streaming through the doorway, reflected off the walls of the temple corridors.  
“Anakin, it’s barely even the crack of dawn.”  
“You’re right, Master, it’s only a few minutes after.” Anakin looked back up from his hand, the floating blue interface quickly shimmering away. “But, hey, today’s your-”  
“Birthday, yes, yes,” Obi-Wan said, letting the words out in an exasperated manner.  
“And you’ve gotta-”  
“Make the most of it before you die of old age and, say, everything else that could potentially kill me.”  
Anakin gave him a classic Skywalker smirk. “And the war.”  
“Mm, yes. Now, do get out of my room so I can actually get dressed.”  
His old apprentice gave an exaggerated eye roll, moving his head around as he did so, turning his back.  
Obi-Wan let out an amused sigh as he rolled over in his bed. It would suffice.

“Say, Anakin, where’s that padawan of yours? I’d’ve expected her to be here since the two of you began insisting on doing this yearly together.”  
“Right here, Master!” A voice called from behind the walking pair, boots clattering on the smooth stone floor as Ahsoka caught up, fashionably late in the usual Skywalker style. “Sorry if I missed anything.”  
“Oh, all you missed was Anakin waking me up at the same time the sun began to rise on the horizon,” Obi-Wan chortled as the Togruta yawned and stretched.  
“It’s no worry, Snips, he’s old enough that had you taken all morning to get here, he’d still be halfway through getting dressed.”  
The two younger Jedi traded snickers at Anakin’s joke, while an amused look sat on Obi-Wan’s face.

Their stroll took them to a corner of the top level of the Temple, one facing the Coruscant skyline with enough space to let the sun peer between the large standing buildings.  
“Take a look, old man.”  
Obi-Wan stepped forward, placing his hands on the railing, his robes blowing gently in the breeze.  
Anakin and Ahsoka exchanged looks, stepping back together. There was the sound of two pairs of steps as they left, leaving him alone for the time being.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the sun’s rays shining upon him.  
He smiled, basking in their welcome warmth. It would just be for now.  
Without a word, he allowed his mind to roam freely.  
The struggles continued, day in and day out, whether he was involved in them or not; planning, briefing, or involvement, or not. Years ago, all they had to worry about had been the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo.  
Now, they were engaged in a full scale conflict, with the constant prospect of the Sith returning and rising to power.  
Oh, how much things could change in a matter of decades. In a matter of years. In one single year.  
The fighting had grown more fierce, as planet after planet fell or became locked in an eternal stalemate.  
He tightened his grip on the rail, allowing himself to process his emotions.  
The sorrow for every trooper killed under his command. For every life lost in the Clone Wars.  
Each slave that he had witnessed, ruthlessly put to work and murdered on Kadavo without a second thought. Forced to suffer due to his ignorance. Forced to submit to the feeling of hopelessness, powerlessness, forced to toil in order to survive.  
None of it was right. They were all being played. That was, after all, what Count Dooku had told him. But they had no other choice.  
Obi-Wan let out a breath, recollecting his thoughts.  
Some day, the war would be all over.

A single thought left as quickly as it had entered his mind.  
_Remember, my dear Obi-Wan._  
He glanced back at the pair, speaking in a hushed conversation between themselves.  
_I loved you always._  
_I always will._  
“Satine.”  
The word escaped his lips, a murmur that was but a whisper on the wind to the two behind him.  
It was the first birthday without the one fair lady he had grown closest to over the years.  
The breeze rose to meet his hand, the cold air blowing softly against the cheek where she had caressed him for the last time only months ago.  
He lowered it, glaring out over the horizon at the sun, slowly turning pale in the morning sky.  
It wasn’t fair. None of it was.  
Maul had been wrong; the Dark would never overcome the Light.  
But he had also been right, for he had known what his nemesis had been forced to face since all those decades ago.  
He had carried something else within him since the moment the glowing blade, black against the rays of light shining through the hall’s many glass windows, had pierced through her.  
He had lost something, and he didn’t know what.  
They all had lost something.

The sky had turned light blue as Obi-Wan reopened his eyes, a sign that he had spent enough time reminiscing about that which he would never be able to change. He gave himself a few seconds to recompose his mind, swallowing the uncomfortable lump that had risen in his throat. The stoic, wise Obi-Wan that the rest of the Jedi Order knew turned around to face his younger companions, striding over as the two turned towards him.  
“So, how’d you like the sunrise?” Anakin asked as both him and his padawan turned to walk with him.  
“Anakin, every time you do this, I tell you two things. First, it’s a lovely sunrise, and second, I can very well appreciate it on my own without you having to wake me up.”  
“As if him or I have ever learned to actually do what people have asked for?”  
“You make a very good point.”

The temple refectory sat quiet save for a few servants and droids bustling about, spreading utensils and placing elegant, bountiful dishes upon stands in preparation for the morning breakfast.  
“And, again, Anakin, need I remind you that my desire for sweets has decidedly tapered off over the years?”  
His apprentice gave him a mock look of indignancy. “Well frankly, Master Kenobi, I’m insulted! Nobody’s ever old enough to appreciate having a sweet tooth, right, Ahsoka?”  
“Right indeed, Master.”  
“Yes, yes, do be quiet, you two.”  
The three took seats at a long table, moving aside to allow the occasional employee to set down a platter or extra plates.  
Obi-Wan looked across at Anakin and Ahsoka, the younger of the two drumming her fingers on the table as the other craned his neck around, looking for the towering dish that was the hallmark of every birthday. Even with luxuries being mostly sacrified in favor of the Jedi Code, the Council begrudgingly allowed a sole exception after the second time Anakin had managed to orchestrate such a feat. The third time around, it had become a quasi-holiday for the Younglings and within the younger ranks of the Padawans, as such extravagance was an infrequent commodity.  
Not as if they had any choice, of course.  
He would most definitely be expecting something planned by the clones as well, as small as a warm greeting from Cody to the chaos that would ensue from Anakin giving Rex and the rest of his legion an order to celebrate Kenobi’s birthday as damn hard as they would very well please. Fighters doing fancy formation flying and loops in the air certainly wasn’t out of the question.  
The clones.  
The fighting had taken something out of all of them. It had felt wrong, met with a feeling of fierce resistance and denial, one that could easily be suppressed by any tempered Jedi, but still shone through furiously in the younger two.  
It was the small things that they had come to appreciate. The moments of quiet in the middle of the battlefield, the intricate bonds that had been forged between each of them and their fellow soldiers. The calm that came from the three of them sitting in a largely empty hall, awaiting the arrival of their centerpiece dish.

“Here it is!” Anakin called, spotting the approaching figures bearing a moderately sized platter between them. The cake, gleaming in bright and colored frosting, was set onto the table between them.  
Obi-Wan replied his thanks to the attendants biding him happy birthdays, inspecting the finely layered cake. There was enough for each of the trio seated, the rest of the Order, and particularly the Younglings.  
The three exchanged mutual looks, the words that had been said several times before remaining unchanged. The hope for an end to the galactic suffering. The hope for true, real peace following the era of turmoil. The hope for a return to normalcy, or as close as they would ever get to it, on and on and so forth.

In a sense, Obi-Wan was proud. Proud of Anakin, and proud of Ahsoka. Both had grown into their roles as teacher and learner, and had even more so come to regard each other as close as family. The special sort of bond that meant that where one’s antics abounded, the other’s was soon to follow. The sort of bond that made them do this for him every year.  
It was a strange feeling, genuinely noticing the literal light in the darkness, amidst the despair and defeat that seemed to encompass the entire galaxy at this stage in the war.  
He knew it wouldn’t fix everything; every conflict, every problem, everything that had broken at the hands of the Sith.  
It wouldn’t bring back the fallen or the dead. It wouldn’t repair broken hearts, broken feelings. Not now, not ever.  
But it was something, and it was a start.

Obi-Wan raised the filled glass sitting next to him.  
“To the end of the war,” Obi-Wan toasted.  
The other two raised their own as well. “To the end of the war,” they chorused.  
They took a sip from their glasses before Anakin spoke again. “To Obi-Wan!”  
“To Obi-Wan!” “To me.”  
It wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough. None of this could ever bring back everything they had lost.  
But what he felt in that instant went beyond that. He had a family that cared for him.  
It was a nice feeling.  
The amused smirk on Obi-Wan’s face grew.  
“Happy birthday, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. He pointed at the waiting cake. “Let’s eat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Quick write to let out some stuff that's been plaguing me, get myself back into the groove of writing, and in honor of James Arnold Taylor's 51st birthday!  
> *The voice actor that played Obi-Wan in TCW.  
> Might not be up to par, that's on my thoughts and my writing. Back at it soon, though!


End file.
